


appreciate every moment

by Val_Creative



Series: GoT Drabble-Palooza 2019 [47]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Family Dynamics, First Meetings, Humor, M/M, Meeting the kids, Mythical Beings & Creatures, POV Jon Snow, Protective Siblings, Quadruple Drabble, Romantic Friendship, The North (ASOIAF), Wildling Culture & Customs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 21:14:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18902779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Jon meets Tormund’s rebellious daughters.





	appreciate every moment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [2Cute2BeCis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Cute2BeCis/gifts).



> Requested by 2Cute2BeCis (AO3): "jonmund with jon meeting tormunds kiddos." I actually really liked doing this because Tormund's girls would be Arya's age or younger so it's different than if they were toddlers or little kids. They can come to their own conclusions about Jon. I hope you guys enjoyed reading this and any thoughts/comments are totally appreciated! CAN YOU BELIEVE JONTORMUND IS ENDGAME WOWWWWWW WE LOVE BOYFRIENDS!!!!!

 

 

*

Many of the free folk prefer to remain deep in the wolfswood, setting up camp and tents from elk and deer skins. Jon bids them to come to Winterfell, with its towering, naturally heated stone walls, and he's rightfully ignored.

"They don't like being told what to do," Tormund says, clapping Jon's back gruffly. Tormund's fingers do not lift, rubbing and wandering over his velvety-feeling, furred cloak, sketching over the hard and prominent angles of Jon's muscles. The air smells like cold ash and hawthorn and ironwoods. One or two of the free folk glance towards them, suspiciously, before busying themselves.

"— _PAPA_!"

Jon finds himself separating from Tormund, backing up, the sharpened end of a wooden pike tipping under his chin.

A slim, fair-faced woman with bright orange curls and freckles glares up at him, holding her weapon defensively. She is perhaps as old as Arya. There's another woman, with Tormund's orange hair and appearing to be younger, hurries up to everyone, clutching gleefully onto her father's arm and staring with unabashed admiration.

"Jon, this is my youngest daughter Helewys," Tormund nods to the woman with the spear, "and my oldest, named after her mother."

"Is this the crow, Papa? Is it?" Helewys chimes, her voice as sweet as her big, rosy dimples.

"Aye. This is him."

"The one who saved us—?"

"— _and got everyone else killed_ ," Tormund's oldest daughter mutters, spitting at Jon's feet. Jon supposes she's one of the few of the free folk who will never truly accept a Brother of the Night's Watch or any southron below the Wall as an friend.

His chin shifts, and Jon stares into her pale blue eyes. "I grieve the dead as well," he tells her quietly. She doesn't relent and Ghost bristles, his jaws snapping, growling.

"Iseult," Tormund says, laughing boomingly. "That direwolf will tear you to pieces before you could nick him."

His daughter frowns and huffs, moving aside her pike.

"… You've gone soft."

Jon exhales, touching over Ghost's head reassuringly. Helewys keeps to Tormund's side and he realises that her bashful and meek nature is unlike her father and older sister. It's no wonder that Iseult seems so protective of her family.

"They're of different mothers," Tormund explains, whispering and playfully elbowing the other man. "But thick as thieves."

Jon's mouth quirks. "Think she likes me…?"

"Iseult didn't gut you. That's a start."

He thinks so too.

*

 


End file.
